


Untitled

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: A musician's life is hard, M/M, So is his hair gel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: “No one touches his hair. That’s like, rule number one,” Travis chuckles as Matt nervously watches Mark checking his hair in the poster frame reflection.





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Because Hoppus is a Handsome Assassin and Matt has a hair kink. Sort of.
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> I guess you know the drill.. all mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

“That’s like, rule number one,” Travis chuckles as Matt nervously watches Mark checking his hair in the poster frame reflection.

“No one touches his hair.”

“I know, I know, I only wanted to give him a friendly pat,” Matt frowns.

“Don’t worry, he’s not really angry, just don’t mess up his hair,” Travis calms him down and bows back over the studio mixer.

Mark comes back to sit on the couch and wiggles his butt between the still guilty looking Matt and Conan who’s peacefully napping despite the commotion and noises.

“I’m sorry, I did not wanted to diminish your artistic expressions,” Matt tries an excuse with a little bit of humour.

“Oh, it’s just an old weird habit,” Mark waves him off and punctuates it with a shoulder-nudge. His eyes crinkle.

–

Matt liked all the different styles Mark’s hair went through the years. The early Robert Smith phase, with a lot of backcombing and hairspray, the crazy hair colours, the extreme short cuts. That time he thought that if he would run his fingers though it, it would feel like velvet.

Then again Mark rocked the colours and it was Matt’s secret pleasure to watch him on TV.

Later Mark abandoned them in favor of a distinctive, almost signature hairstyle. Sort of punk casual, fitting his age and life attitude.

–

The best thing is, when Mark’s hair reaches a certain length, it begins to curl at the end. The hairstylists usually straightens the top of Mark’s hair to look flawless for photoshoots.

Just like now. Matt gets a Hurley trucker, problem solved, but Mark’s hair takes ages. Sitting next to him in a makeup chair Mark gets mousse for extra hold and maybe a little bit of volume, wax, combing, hairspray, in various combinations and amounts. He seems to be unfazed by the stylist going over and over to achieve the perfect look. Matt watches the whole process in the mirror. One would say it’s just ruffled hair, but hell no. It’s truly an art form.

Mark catches his stare in the mirror and raises a sassy brow. Matt quickly turns the situation into a face making contest to avoid himself thinking about how Mark’s hair looks when he wakes up.

Sometimes he also thinks about how the dark brown strands would feel twirling around his fingers.

–

The hotel stays are boring. You’re basically waiting, waiting and waiting, trying to kill the remaining time. Good thing there is room service and a laptop full of movies. Matt’s bed is littered with boxes from the local vegan restaurant and Gary Oldman laughs mockingly on the screen. What a perfect day. Mark joined him maybe three hours ago, dressed in sweatpants and with glasses on. They set up the camp on the bed because what’s the point of watching movies while sitting squeezed in a terrible designer sofa. Now the two of them are watching the Dracula before the food starts conking Mark out, eyes slipping shut.

Matt fails to concentrate because Mark’s head slowly falls to the side, bumping against the white pillow, crooking his glasses to the side. The moment Mark starts to lightly snore Matt gives up. He reaches and carefully removes Mark’s glasses, folds them and sets on the night table. He mutes the sound on the laptop by a quarter and props himself back against the pillows. Mark indeed deserves to rest, they flew extra from LA to play the X Games in Austin. There are still post mixes to be finished and he was anxious about how the audience will receive the new songs.

On the screen Anthony Hopkins is casting a protective circle and Matt realizes he did not paid attention since the Carfax Abbey. His ears seems to focus on the rhythm of Mark’s breath. He tries to furiously regain his focus but after a while he starts to throw side glances at Mark who has now a light frown settled between his brows.

Matt knows about Mark’s bad and restless sleep. It’s the frequent jumping between the time zones, the stress of the past months, the constant overthinking. They shared their experiences with relaxing techniques, Matt swears on yoga while Mark prefers breathing exercise. Which is basically the same. So Matt thinks that something is bothering Mark. More than usual because he reflects it in his sleep. As a confirmation of Matt’s hypothesis, Mark growls in his sleep and turns to his side. He’s wedged between a pillow and Matt’s shoulder, mumbling something, the frown even deepening.

Matt moves his arm behind Mark and experimentally cards his fingers through Mark’s hair, then rubbing soothing little circles behind the ear. After a couple of minutes the frown fades away and Mark’s breathing gets regular again.

Matt sort of forgets himself in the moment, completely occupied with Mark’s hair. Mark did not styled it much, so it’s rather fluffy and floppy. Twisting the strands around his fingers, it feels like taming some sort of fuzzy animal. Seems like Mark enjoys it too because he exhales, pushing into Matt’s hand. Matt giggles, the fingers in Mark’s hair don’t stop moving, lightly scratching the back of his head. The noise he lets out borderline obscene and Matt freezes, he remembers that he’s supposed to behave himself. Molesting the hair of your bandmate is not the best way of bonding. Or maybe it is, Matt flushes in embarrassment.

He extracts himself from Mark’s side, rearranges the pillows so that Mark is cushioned like a precious cargo and takes his laptop to the balcony, closing the separating door behind him. He answers some mails, writes down some notes in his inspiration sheet and enjoys the view over the hotel garden.

Mark seems to be still napping when the time comes to meet with Matt’s friends for late dinner. Matt hovers above the sleeping man, trying to come up with the gentlest way how to wake him up.

He slowly rocks Mark’s shoulder, whispering “Wakey, wakey, handsome assassin,” and repeating the soft shake.

“Hnnnf,” goes slowly Mark, cranking one eye open.

“Wake up, you fell asleep while watching Gary and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.”

“Oh did I? Man, I’m sorry,” Mark is surprised, rubbing eyes with the heel of his hand and climbing out of the bed.

Now Matt knows how Mark looks fresh out of the bed, still half-sleepy, and wants to reach out to ruffle his hair even more.

–

They’re bowed over the macbook on the table, discussing some background effects and Matt finds it hard to ignore the way how Mark is leaning into him.

“I think it should start a split second earlier and the fade out should be more refined. From here,” Matt points at a spot on the timeline. ”This is too harsh.” Mark’s hair is once again ticking him on the cheek as he bends down to scratch one of the dogs.

“Play that again. Uh-huh, right, I get what you mean. Let’s make it like that,” Mark nods and props his head on hand.

“I’m really happy with the way how we do it. Working with you is truly awesome. You’re like an endless well of ideas. I love it, I have never enjoyed work so much since—.” His eyes darken, looking sullen for a split second. “Since the last song,” he finishes with a smile.

Matt watches him lean in again and breathing in the air with half-closed eyes. “It’s YSL.” Matt is proud because he now he knows he made the right decision choosing the perfume.

“Really nice,” Mark compliments him again, bowing down to the dogs again.

“And I like your hair today,” Matt playfully flicks one of Mark’s strands. He got a fresh cut recently and now it’s even longer on top and really short on sides, bearing the signature Hoppus look.

An appreciative laughter comes from beneath. At this point Matt is willing to risk it. He reaches further, burrowing his fingers in Mark’s hair. Mark stiffens but immediately melts into it, turning his head and sighing like he’s starved for the touch.

Matt swallows dry and continues with his fingers down the back of Mark’s head to his neck. Mark turns to him. His eyes are warm, like he can sense Matt’s intent. Matt dares himself to be bold.

Their lips meet with the lightest of touches, barely brushing, and just as Mark is pressing up into it, the familiar click of the studio door breaks the moment. Travis enters the studio and stops, eyes darting back and forth between them with a slightly confused expression. Matt tries to drag his hand out of Mark’s hair as stealthy as possible.

“Not like you’re being subtle,” Travis remarks, grabs the jacket he forgot on the chair and disappears again.


End file.
